A Recent History of the Realm of Th'n Bolak
Three years after the the Great Plague and the defeat of Fachaun by the felling of the great tree Benthanesal, the sparse and tiny population of Th’n Bolak has constructed their calendar in relation to the Great Plague. Divided into six parts known as Sextans; Plague, Felling, Siege, Famine, Stryfe, and Grief. The Winter has persisted for three years, and life in the mountainous region is miserable. Immediately after the felling of the Great Benthanesal our heroes quickly returned to the Temple of the Dog to find their family only slowly recovering from their slumber. Famished, the Canids fed them but each recovered in relation to the suffering they went through while under the Lich’s spell. Our heroes returned to tend their families, and were much welcomed at the temple. The Far Queen rules the palace. Biff as Paladin of Th’n Bolak was much called upon by the tiny clusters of people trying to eek out a survival in the aftermath of the Great Plague, Krusk was visited by the ancient Eye of Gruumsh too old to have followed the horde across the sea, Gareth’s traveling company found him, and together they set about brightening a bleak and dismal region with song and story, Liliput and Drak went off together and found great adventure as they said their vows, Sil continued to be haunted by the felling of the great oak Benthanasal every time he set to meditate, Makaria’s time in the region is a dark tale shrouded in mystery, Fie found the home of the Minotaur whose axe she bore, and discovered a secret she’s sworn never to reveal, Asteron’s tale is so epic that it would take all of Plague to tell, Valkhad underwent a cosmic change, and Zenma set about trying to reign in the other Zenma. There are three goals that must be accomplished by our heroes. First, they must find a place to secret the Horn of Wyrm. Second, they must find and trap the Exarch of Jubilex, Agares, the Horror they themselves released upon the land. Third, the Ghost Elven Chronicler left from the Ethereal before the All God’s War or the Cataclysm, said to have gone out from the Ghost Elves to discover the past, if our heroes wish to amend their transgression against Archmage Davros of Ghosthome they must find the fate of the Chronicler. In the three years which have passed, the Far Queen has come to know the sweet sound of Agares, who visits her. The cabal formed between the Cult of Dagon and the Quivering Mass of Jubilex has brought a Shoggoth to Three Bridges, which has cleansed the Palace of it’s besiegers. Wise to flee, the armies of the four corners of the Dominion have retreated to their perspective lands. Each ruled now by feudal lords and their vassals. The war has dragged on these three years. The Dominion has fallen to pieces. By Famine of the first year after the Great Plague the great nation that once was has disintegrated into petty fiefdoms held by men at arms hungry and desperate for their lord’s favor. Each of the passing days is hard fought and food grows increasingly scarce. While peasants toil to force the land to give, the unrelenting winter that first year cost millions their lives. Th’n Bolak faired no better, already decimated by plague, the scant population tries desperately to eek out a living, but most turn to raiding and some to cannibalism. Stryfe of the first year was marked by the greatest fighting, troops desperate beyond belief began to tear apart their enemies in battles of attrition, the worst fighting being between Grand Duke Ptolemy and the Far Queen, though young Duke Fenris was forced to the woods, engaged in sporadic fighting against all three opponents. In the North West, Baron Rath Croghan was able to piece the realm together under his banner, though the deal struck between those lords is said to have cost them their souls. Devils now march freely in the North West Dominion. Further West, in Th’n Bolak, remnant Orcs too old, too fractious, or too young to have joined the main host of those lead by Grimspear, have clustered together into small raiding bands. Finally Grief set in the first year, families mourned their dead, and those that had worse fates. As if the sadness had been hiding to attack all at once, the end of the First Year was so completely dismal that many did not survive the utter heartbreak. When the first anniversary of the Great Plague came, everyone took to calling that time of year “Plague”. Winter was a full year and the horror of that fact took it’s toll. The tiny communities were desperate for food. The Dominion was four separate lands now, and each of those were desperate. Except for the Far Queen, who seemed to have fed her strange and bizarre citizenry. Come Felling, the Winter Queen had returned from hiding after the attack of Hate. She held court in grand fashion, and the fey rejoiced, though not for long, as the court was attacked by a Goliath raiding band which had made it’s way far enough into the Feywild to acquire alliances with the Goblin King. The ensuing battle was fierce and over quick, as the fey disappeared back into the woods, and the Golliaths and their new Goblin allies feasted at the Queen’s table. Unfortunately the feast was poisoned, though the Queen would never admit whether the feast was poisoned before or after the attack. Many Noble Eladrin counted themselves lucky for the attack. By Siege of the Second year, there were battles in the air between dragons. The entire year, there was a siege of Th’n Bolak by red dragons attempting to establish lairs. But the dragons of the Metal Mountains defended their homes, against the reds. Patience in particular proved to be a terror in the sky. Many a nights were lit the whole night through by the dragonfire in the sky. Only once was the gold dragon seen, it’s mountain destroyed in a terrible explosion two years prior, the great gold dragon coiled into the sky the last night of Siege, and fought Hate himself, the night burned as bright as day during the battle, and when the gold dragon came streaking down from the sky a blazing golden comet striking the mountains with such force as to rupture the earth and caverns below, it’s said that the Collossal Red Hate was injured so tremendously by the fallen gold that he was forced to quit the sky, taking his flight of red dragons with him. The gold dragon must’ve struck so hard as to have fallen deep into the earth, as if the ground had swallowed him, for he wasn’t seen again. The second year of Famine was worst than the first, and people starved everywhere, even the rich could not find food. After sixty days of the most terrible famine the world had seen, some gnomes appeared out of the west carrying sacks of a winterbloom potatoe from the feywild, they were able to teach the humans how to plant the things and food began to grow in the snow. Of course the fields of winterbloom were fought over in Stryfe. By the second year Grief washed over the land a second time, new sorrows acknowledged, and gratitude for surviving a second year felt by all. The third year’s Plague season saw fresh snow now so deep it covered the towns and villages to their rooftops. The snow was so deep fighting became difficult, a fact for which many were grateful. The third Felling was marked by a celebration for the Felling of the Great Oak Benthanasil by all the people of the land save the fey. Felling saw the first truce between the warring lords, Duke Fenris and Rath Croghan agreed to a ceasefire, on the condition that each would send the other groups of players to act out the Felling Play, a theatrical depiction of the great heroes who ended the Great Plague, and destroyed the Lich Druid Fachaun! The truce was broken during the sextan Siege. The Far Queen attacked both Fenris and Rath Croghan with fleshwarped troops made to look like one another. The resulting confusion lead to renewed fighting and a laughing Far Queen. The third year’s sextan Famine was actually the opposite, the first major harvest of winterbloom potatoes came in and were shared throughout the lands. The first harvest’s mirth was short lived though, because the following sextan saw the expansion of the Far Queen. Illithid were seen crouched over soldiers on the parapets of the castles sacked by the Far Queen during sextan Stryfe. Her blatant abominations drove men mad as slimes dripped down the walls and consumed her enemies whole. The resulting third year’s Greif was once again marked by the tears of wives and mothers, even the Orphan press gangs that roamed the lands took the time to greave their lot.